


The Guitarist

by imma_redshirt



Category: Coco (2017), The Princess and the Frog (2009)
Genre: Gen, even for such a brief moment, i like the idea of these two meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imma_redshirt/pseuds/imma_redshirt
Summary: Naveen recalls a short memory of a guitarist in Mexico.





	The Guitarist

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is, but the more I think of Naveen and Hector meeting, the more I like it, and the more I want to write more about them. For now it's just this short vague thing.
> 
> ~~ok i'm procrastinating but let's ignore that thank you~~
> 
> Previously titled "The Fond Memory." Also posted on my Tumblr.

Tiana once asked Naveen to share his fondest memories of music, from a time before he knew the music of Jazz and New Orleans. 

For a moment, Naveen thought back to his youth. Back to when he first heard the Royal Maldonian Choir in the grand halls of the castle, or when he danced to the bands that played in the annual parades marching through the royal gardens beneath his tower. 

But it was a recent memory that he mentioned first, from one of his earlier tours of the Americas in the spring of 1921. His parents had sent him to Mexico, and in one of the busiest cities, he remembered two musicians on a brightly lit stage. The singer in his blinding white suit had a voice that could hold the masses enraptured. But it was the guitar player that had held Naveen’s attention, his fingers a blur against the guitar strings, shinned shoes tapping out a beat against the wooden stage. The man had been a literal embodiment of energy in constant movement, the sounds of the guitar lifting Naveen’s spirits higher than he thought possible. Naveen had jumped onto the stage without hesitation. He had needed to be a part of that music! The singer had glared and his voice had faltered, but the second man, the one with the guitar, had grinned and tapped out a fast beat, quirking an eyebrow–a challenge.

Naveen didn’t remember every moment on the stage. But he remembered the blurred faces of the cheering crowd, the lights above as he danced to a song about being driven crazy. Laughing, breathless, as he tried to follow the guitarist's quick steps, and the absolute joy of a spirited grito. 

“I think his name was Héctor,” Naveen said, thinking back to the brief trading of names after the duo’s performance behind the stage. Héctor had been sweating, shaking Naveen’s hand, before his angry friend had dragged him away. “Ah, Tiana, I wish you could have heard them play. We must travel there some day!”

“That would be nice,” Tiana said, and Naveen wondered if they could find the two friends again. Something about the singer seemed familiar to him–had he run into him since that day?–but he never had seen or heard the guitarist again during his last days in Mexico. Wherever he was, whoever he was, Naveen hoped he was still playing.


End file.
